No, John
by That Kid With the Long Coat
Summary: John gets hurt bad. Real bad. Rated T just as a precaution, though it's probably not needed.


Yeah, so this happened earlier today.  
Because I didn't need enough therapy already. Have fun my lovelies.

* * *

Sherlock couldn't feel a thing.

He couldn't feel a _damn_ thing.

Blood pooled sluggishly at his feet, bright and crimson.

John Watson was on the ground before him, half on his side.

The detective fell to his knees immediately in panic, gingerly turning his friend onto his back, something in the back of his mind screaming that John shouldn't be moved, that he should just find help, call someone, _anything_. But Lestrade was already on the way, and the man in the long coat didn't trust anyone else to handle this. Lestrade would bring help, and John **would** live.

_Christ, _would_ John live?_

Immediately, he started looking for the cause of the bleeding. He almost wished he hadn't. The doctor's torso was an ugly peppering of bullet holes. Sherlock was reminded unnecessarily of swiss cheese, and he cringed. He watched in horror the rapid rise and fall of his best friend's chest, the flow of blood from his mouth and nose. It took a moment for the detective to realise he had spoken, but he must have, because John's eyes fluttered open.

The doctor looked at him at an agonisingly slow pace, then smiled. "_Sherlock..._" he whispered, voice hoarse.

Sherlock shushed him as he coughed, flecks of blood flying. The dark-haired man cradled his friend's head, running his thumb over chapped, wet lips. "Quiet John. _Just-_" _be quiet, save your strength, __**hold on**_. He felt his voice crack, something he hadn't experienced often, and John takes his hand.

There was a few moments silence as John licked his lips. Dark eyes were contemplating, still bright despite everything that happened. The night was deathly quiet, and Sherlock could feel the cold silence pressing in on them both. "_Sher, it's really bad_."

He choked at first, but the detective forced himself to steady his voice, to stay composed. "_No_, John _everything's_ _fine_, your going to be _fine_," he said determinedly, as if saying it would make it so.

John shook his head slowly, giving him a sad smirk. "_No Sherlock_." He opened his mouth to say more, but the man in the long coat silenced him with a look.

"You'll be **fine**," he insisted, rubbing the doctor's cheek with his thumb, smoothing back his hair, wiping the blood from his mouth. He ignored the fact that he knew John knew very well what he was talking about. This was serious, this was bad, very bad. _Where was Lestrade? Where were the _damned_ sirens?_

Coughing again, John swiped at Sherlock's cheek. The detective felt a wetness there he hadn't noticed, and when he scrubbed at it furiously with his fist, he noticed he was crying. _Tears? _He looked back down at his friend, feeling a sharp pang in his chest. He tried to swallow, but he felt like his tongue was twice its size, and his throat clamped shut.

With a pathetically sad look, his doctor squeezed his hand as hard as he was able, probably hoping to comfort him. "_Sher, I'm so sorry_..."

"**No John**," Sherlock nearly yelled, voice hard. A sense of panic sweeps over him, chilling him to the bone, colder than the wind ever could manage.

The detective watched as his best friend feebly shook his blond head, chuckling ruefully. It sounded like a dry rattle. "_I'm not gonna make it Sherlock. It's been a miracle I've lasted this long_..." He coughed long and hard at that point, bringing more blood, and water to prick the corners of his eyes.

"Then you can hold on a little longer." He clenched his jaw, subconsciously raising John's cold hand and pressing it to his lips, resting his face against the soft flesh. Why, his numb brain can't comprehend.

John let out that horrid laugh again, brushing dark curls out of the pale man's face. Sherlock watched in horror as his doctor shakes his head again, eyes closing.

That time they didn't open.

Sirens wailed in the distance, not far from them.

"No John. _John_!"

Sherlock felt the world freeze, then begin to shatter.

_No._


End file.
